Thicker than Water
by Vashagud
Summary: Give to me something both trivial and familiar. Cloti.


Tifa could already smell the rain when they pulled into the drive. Cloud was saying some quiet something she couldn't hear above the wind rushing soft and wet against her face, and she leaned her head between his hard shoulder blades, decided she didn't really want to know what he was saying, imagined it was probably something he'd said before.

He lifted his chin up, and the grey light filtered right through his pale eyelashes. Behind them she could smell their garden full of lilies, and all the dirt around them. The drive out, the smells, the straight blonde hair at his nape against her forehead-this was all ritual.

As the sky went dark, she pushed herself away from him and swung off the bike. She thought to go in and start on dinner, but instead she froze on the chilly drive. She turned suddenly, and Cloud turned within seconds of it, giving one slow, boyish blink of his eye.

She moved back over to stand beside him, glanced from the reflection of the sky in his goggles, to the way his knees still held steady to the side of the bike. She touched him, from throat to chest, and pushed him gently back. But how gentle was gentle between the two of them?

She had the force of a martial artist, and his body the steel resistance of a soldier. She pushed him back though, anyway. He let her push him back. One blonde eyebrow raised, he scooted back and she swung her leg over and sat up in front. She knew where everything was, having ridden in the back enough times.

She knew what she was doing, but still her hands shook. She felt like she was in the moment by herself, and she could've been because Cloud didn't so much as mutter calming words, or hold his hands over hers. He waited patiently, looped his arms around her waist and she appreciated that more than anything. His arms were strong, and she felt it like a kiss on the mouth the way his forearms flexed at her sides. She felt breathless from the contact, familiar but different, and then she started up the engine she got her knees tight around the slick sides of the bike.

They drove for a while down abandoned and under construction roads, and she could hear it in certain hitches of his breath that he was surprised by her unconventional route, and it made her smile. She could tell in the way he'd move on curves that her hair was blowing into his face too much, and she was bold enough to reach a hand back, up from the handlebar and gather her hair over one shoulder.

When it started to rain hard, he drove them back.

They didn't say anything to each other once back in the house, uncertain of what to say about whatever had transpired between them in that moment. But something had, and Tifa thought it best just to leave it alone. It was a nice aberration, something authentic that made her heart swell when she closed the bathroom door behind her and slid down onto the floor.

Once she heard his quiet footsteps fade upstairs, she wrung her hair out in the sink and peeled her pants off. It occurred to her that she hadn't shaved in months, and she took the cream and the razor out now just because her hands were idle, and her chest was filled with things she didn't quite know what to do with yet. She just wanted something to do, but somehow knew it might have something to do with a whim she had, of maybe-maybe sleeping in the same bed with him again.

She shook her head and laughed at herself when she thought it, lifted her leg to the sink and spread the cream.

She was almost halfway done when Cloud unthinkingly let himself into the bathroom. She froze when the door came open, thought offhandedly about her pants that were lying on the floor. She was only in her underwear, a plain, old pair she never thought about throwing out until now. It was a little silly to be embarrassed. He'd seen her before in all sorts of undress. Saving the planet together doesn't lend much to privacy.

He'd seen her naked even, and even deeper beyond skin, touched her insides with rough fingers, and everything else seeking to make sweet, gentle contact.

And then he'd picked up and left. Then, the sound of the door shutting followed her around, just like the steady sound his phoneline, ringing and ringing. And ringing. She thought he'd never come back home.

But there he was, in the bathroom doorway. And it was curious that he hadn't turned and left yet. They had been tiptoeing around each other like strangers ever since he returned.

Tifa thought then to take her leg down from the sink, and she rinsed the razor off just as a bright strike of lighting outside lit the dim bathroom up for a not even a half second. She thought she might turn on the light, the afternoon was so dark, but Cloud was coming forward, leaving the door ajar only enough to still smell the rain air coming in through the wide windows of the living room.

He looked uncertain too, but still hard around the eyes, when he took the razor from her. She thought he might set it down and say something to her. She yearned for it, to hear his low voice wrap around something more than a sentence at a time, the breathe it even lower into her ear like he did before when they use to move against each other on calm, quiet nights.

But he didn't put the razor down, he guided her over to the side of the tub. His hands were strong and trembling though, and she wondered if he was going to do what she thought he might. If so, the trembling could be a problem, though all she could think about as he squatted beside her was the look in his eyes, asking her for the same kind of permission she'd asked of him earlier. He turned on the bath faucet.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip when he took the razor with a surprisingly steady and delicate hand, and ran the blade down the skin of her leg. He concentrated, let his strokes become more firm, even. She felt his hand slide under her knee to lift her leg, the pulse of his naked hand as she shaved the back of her calf.

He rinsed the razor and gave it a hard flick. She watched him stroke up with again in silence, imagined she shouldn't be worried if the Buster Sword was anything to go by. And then she moved, or maybe he trembled, she didn't know.

But he cut her, and she flinched, sucked in a breath through her teeth. He looked up at her, alarmed. The razor clattered to the floor, and his eyes were wide, so blue.

"I'm sorry." He said, and she shook her head. It wasn't so bad. Just a cut.

"Cloud—" she started, and he looked down to the floor.

"No." he said, looking back up at her. "I'm sorry, Tifa." And it was all there, beyond the warm trail of red on her leg. She bit her lip, shook her head.

"No, I—I know, and it's okay." She took his hand in hers and he squeezed it tight. "I think it's really _okay_ now."

And when she climbed into his bed that night, they didn't make love. But she curled into him with the storm still raging, thumbed the bandaid on her leg. It wouldn't take too much time to heal.

Author's Note: So it was bugging me that I couldn't seem to write anything that didn't end in total sadness for these two, and so here is my attempt at happy Cloti? Kind of? Hope you enjoyed if you read.


End file.
